


Professional Courtesies and Personal Triumphs

by Jennifer-Oksana (JenniferOksana)



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Episode: s02e18 Dead End, F/M, First Time, Het, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 21:31:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6025824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferOksana/pseuds/Jennifer-Oksana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A very sticky situation, and the personal and professional complications that come from it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Professional Courtesies and Personal Triumphs

There was something about an extended stay corporate apartment that made Lindsey depressed, even with the tall, dark, and handsome woman sitting on her desk in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that announced she went to Mortenson (some Yankee school…Boston, maybe? New York?) University Law School. Especially with the girl on the desk, because from all accounting, Miss Lilah Morgan was the sharpest tack in a box of ambitious young legal eagles being recruited to Wolfram and Hart.

“You said to come alone?” Lindsey asked, holding up the note written in green sharpie pen. “What’s wrong? Planning to strangle me now and get the Special Projects associateship all for yourself?”

An eyeroll from the girl, who was dangling her legs back and forth to show off a pair of shapely bare feet. “I have a problem,” Lilah said bluntly. “So do you.”

“And what would that be, Miss Lilah Morgan, Esquire?” Lindsey asked, sitting down on her bed and surveying the possessions on displayed. Not much, really. Pair of ballet slippers atop a limp black leotard, a damn fine green and red silk kimono, two paperback novels, both John Grisham. Either she was piss-poor or she had more than the rest of ’em, and he wasn’t sure he gave a shit.

“You’re a virgin,” Lilah said, holding on the edge of the desk so she was white-knuckled. “If big mouth Mac starts blabbing about it over drinks with Manners, you’re going to find yourself chained to a statue of Baal when the accountants need a tax break, you know.”

Aghast, Lindsey stared at the long, tall drink of cocksucker, and wished he was still hometown boy enough to spit in her face. Instead, he tried to figure out the punchline to the unfunny joke.

“And you care because?” he managed. “Trying to earn your white wings?”

Lilah snorted. “Not exactly, smart boy,” she said. “What, haven’t they heard of female homosexuality down South, or is sodomy only for faggots and cowboys?”

“You’re a lesbian?” asked Lindsey, not buying it. “What about Lee Mercer?”

Lilah rolled her eyes. “First off, world of no. Lee got very drunk, groped around, and then ended up with his dick in the punch bowl,” she said. “Second of all, while I’m a woman-preferring bisexual, thank you VERY much, this is an old school firm. You’re still a virgin until penis meets vagina. Which is the one kink I was saving for my twenty-fifth birthday or the right boy, whichever came first.”

Lindsey stared at her and shook his head. “You cannot be serious,” he finally decided, folding his arms over his chest.

“Do you know what a virgin goes for in Los Angeles?” Lilah asked, glowering at her fingernails, which were apparently chipped or in some way unsatisfactory. “Sixty-five thousand dollars! I can just see some brown-noser on an efficiency kick letting it slip, you know. Hey, you know Morgan and McDonald? He’s a religious freako who sold out and she’s a lesbian! Two-for-one!”

“Well, if you’re as fond as the cock as you’re professing, counselor,” Lindsey said with a wry grin, “You might have thought about introducing yourself to one.”

“Gee, I don’t know why you’re a virgin AT ALL, McDonald,” Lilah said acidly. “At least I have the excuse of not being a virgin except by sexist pig standards. When I think of the crash course I took in deviant sex from my gay theater friends…at least you can imagine why I’m bitter.”

“Because the gay men were prettier and more convincing in heels than you were?” Lindsey asked.

Exasperated, Lilah jumped off the desk she’d been sitting on, like she really thought the 1940s femme fatale act was good for much beyond impressing the rubes. Lindsey got that she was pretty; he didn’t much like her type, being a fool for blondes. But Lilah seemed to have a distinct problem with a good sense of gallows humor in a situation like this. There wasn’t a chance in hell either of them was leaving the room still a virgin by the technical definitions of Wolfram and Hart, so why not have a little humor at their own expense?

“Hey, hey, hey,” Lindsey said. “You’re the one who came up with the idea. Laugh with me. We’re going to fuck on your desk, not because we’re drunk and having an indiscreet moment, not because we like each other, but because we’re deathly afraid of the law firm we just sold our souls to.”

Lilah snorted. “Ha. Ha. Fucking. Ha,” she said, grimly shucking her jeans and t-shirt and flopping onto the bed. Lindsey joined her after ditching his own jeans, enjoying the view. “So why’d you do it?”

“Join up with the big scary? Same as you, I’m guessing,” Lindsey said, reaching out to touch her. “Power. Money. A way the hell out of the corn pone redneck shithole I came from.”

She smiled at him; it was a pitying smile, which rather annoyed Lindsey. If she came from so much money, why was she selling her soul?

“Come on, Lindsey. I’m female,” Lilah said, slapping his hand away from her tits. “All I have to do is swallow. I’m in this because there are forces in this universe that go beyond power. Beyond these crap games we’re all playing with each other.”

Lilah straddled him, leaning almost close enough to kiss as she rubbed against him, slow and sweet. Lindsey, even if he weren’t half troubled with how easy he got hard, would have to admit he was enjoying the show. Up close, not even a blonde would compare with the big green-blue eyes, that half-wild smile…he knew the way Holland thought he was a blue-collar bitch out to revenge his daddy’s Friday night binges, that this was no desperate girl from nowheresville.

But she was a strange girl, the way she wasn’t letting him touch her, not even to seem into the part.

“And what game are you playing with me, huh?” Lindsey asked, suddenly grabbing her wrists and opening her eyes wide. “Do Lindsey the Virgin a favor so he owes you one?”

“Ooh, and the Okie dwarf’s smarter than I thought,” Lilah said, stopping in the middle of her writhing. “Let me guess. Let’s turn off the lights and try missionary?”

“If all we’re here for is to get it over with, why not?” Lindsey asked.

“Fine,” Lilah said, taking off her bra and panties and tossing them. “There’s a box of condoms over there. Hurry up, loverboy. I **don’t** want to die a virgin.”

It went as badly as could possibly be imagined after that, with Lilah staring up at the ceiling and yawning one or twice while Lindsey did his best not to haul off and slap a woman.

“So that’s done,” he said, feeling dirtier after than he had before, dirtier than he’d felt the time his mother caught him with a magazine the one and only time. At the very least, he’d hoped that the big time would be. Something. Good. Fun.

“Yeah, that was pretty bad,” she agreed, absolutely unreadable. “I bet the security guys at Wolfram and Hart are having a good laugh, too. Because you know, I was thinking, because I wasn’t doing anything else…”

“Thanks,” Lindsey muttered sardonically.

“Adulterated souls probably don’t count,” Lilah said, looking distant. “Hell, they probably knew before we even got recruited what our sex lives looked like.”

Lindsey got a sick feeling in his stomach from that, because he was pretty damn sure Lilah was right, and he’d just spent ten indifferent minutes inside a woman he didn’t much like for nothing more than a corporate chuckle.

“You could have thought of that before,” he accused.

“Calm down, McDonald,” Lilah said, curling into the sheets. “This firm is famous for winning on technicalities. And now we’re very sure. And it’s a good reminder of what we’re doing, you know? Getting nice and comfortable with that nasty sheen of filth on our skins. Rolling in the muck.”

Her voice crackled with something that was more erotic than anything he’d heard since he set foot in the studio apartment-slash-hotel room-slash-gate to Hell. Lindsey leaned over, and was slightly repelled to see the look in her eyes.

“It’s not who we are,” he said, looking down at her and shaking his head. “I just don’t want to be the worker ant anymore. I want to be somebody, to be something no one would let me be otherwise.”

Lilah’s strange handsome face creased into a smile, like she was lost in some beautiful erotic dream, instead of reaching for the slightly sweaty rival she’d just fucked for another round. “I can be whoever I need to be,” she said in a soft, awe-tinted voice as she reached up and kissed him, suddenly warm and giving and ardent where she’d been cold and boring and stiff before. “I just can’t be afraid of that.”

She flipped them over — Lilah was strong for a girl, and the way her spine arched back and her breasts swayed slightly made Lindsey suddenly not loathe the idea of her — and moaned when Lindsey’s hands slid up her torso.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me,” Lindsey said. “Not tonight.”

“Of you?” she asked, mouth brushing against his, crushing his before finding itself, hot, against his ear. “It’s not you I’m afraid of, Lindsey.”

It was the last thing she said to him for a while. Later, when Lindsey was taking the hottest, longest shower of his life, feeling like he was cleaning off the dirt, cleaning off whatever he’d lost by stepping into his colleague’s room and bed, by signing that contract, he wondered what she was so afraid of.

When he left her behind, some April afternoon years later, staring at him with eyes that were almost as afraid as the girl who’d sat on the desk in blue jeans, Lindsey knew.

Why be afraid of anyone else when you’re the one to be afraid of?

 


End file.
